


half-asleep

by sophthebi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Anderfels (Dragon Age), Angst and Humor, Betrayal, Bisexual main character, Canon-Typical Violence, DA 4, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elvhenan, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Evelyn Trevelyan is main character, Evelyn is younger, F/M, Fan theories, Fantastic Racism, Focus on Solavelyan, Lavellan is inquisitor, Nevarra (Dragon Age), Other, Red Lyrium Idol, Slow Burn, Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Solavellan, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age), Trevelyan isn't inquistor, bisexual trevelyan, cosmic horror, evanuri, inspired by theories on DA 4's story, she's probably 20 in this fic, this is a sort of AU, this takes place in I guess my theory and other people's theory for DA 4, trying to stick as close to known canon as i can, was 15 or 16 when the breach happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophthebi/pseuds/sophthebi
Summary: Evelyn Trevelyan, a young noble and unknowing dreamer from the Free Marches becomes entangled in a race against an inevitable invasion, and the Dread Wolf's plans to resurrect the lost Elvhenan.{A sort of fan theory on what DA 4 might be, with an AU female Trevelyan as the main character in this fic.}
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Solas & Female Trevelyan, Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Solas/Female Trevelyan, Solas/Original Female Character(s), Solas/Trevelyan (Dragon Age), past Solas/Lavellan - Relationship, undecided for others
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	half-asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Okay haha so this is an AU/fan theory, taking place in I guess the maybe timeline and story of DA 4 that we don't know much about, but kinda do but kinda don't.  
> Watched the bts trailer, watched and read people's theories (which are amazing!! check them out) am watching heaps of Jack Daw on youtube! Reading Tevinter nights, constant researching back and forth and I'm still going to be very wrong about DA 4, but in the case that something in this fic does happen (the only things that are most likely to be right being Solas and his core motives, the places or most of them, and probably the idol) in DA 4, there could be spoilers in this I suppose.  
> Female Trevelyan is main character, female Lavellan was the Inquisitor and was in a relationship with Solas, so something for everyone I suppose (solavelyan & solavellan)  
> I hope whoever reads this, enjoys it, and maybe this can be something cool to laugh at while we wait for DA 4 <33

_The closest Evelyn had ever been to the Tevinter Imperium was visiting Hasmal many years ago._

A distant great-uncle had lived there. Cantankerous as he was, he’d hidden a sort of soft heart, one that Evelyn had witnessed and been asked to keep silent. Sympathetic to escaped slaves from the Imperium, more often than not, elves who’d been robbed of dignity by cruel masters. Many slaves sought refuge within the Free Marcher city, her great-uncle offering shelter and work, _pay_. After a time, people would have enough to go off on their own. Evelyn remembered clearly as a young girl walking the streets, there was always pain, always this collective trauma she perhaps didn’t understand, but felt. No matter the tight grip on her arm, or the hand of Mother over her eyes, she’d seen the horrors, seen them and was never capable of or wanted to forget. Seeing in dreams and nightmares, the effects of having your freedom taken, worse than death.

The difference now being, she could finally do something without that hand over her eyes, grip on bicep so painful and irritating. 

She’d been in Tevinter for a few days.  
There was a discomfort in the land, more so than just knowing truth and history, but feeling it in her bones. The moment she arrived to the Silent Plains, to Solas, observed the Tevinter architecture standing atop of ancient Elven ruins, she’d felt grief of a time lost. A terrible reminder to the refugees who had found some form of salvation in the outskirts of the city. A sanctuary built by the Lucerni, by **Dorian**. The reason she was able to be there. 

Mother had been reluctant to agree. Yes, the breach had been sealed, but war was on the horizon. There was always something. 

“You stare a great deal.” Evelyn focused her sight at the sound of his voice, no longer looking into a blur.  
A _Dalish_ elf, escaped slave, watched her from across the communal table. Young, her age perhaps, or a little older, but that could be …  


Evelyn apologised under her breath, “I wasn’t meaning to stare. Daydreaming.” 

He continued eating, ignoring her once again. Evelyn had half-expected to have this reaction, and she deserved it. A human noble. How privileged can one be in this environment? Evelyn would be the pinnacle of it, but she wanted to prove herself **more** than that. 

She was here not to feel better about herself, she was here to actually do good, to aid without ego, but there was the gnawing in her heart. “My name’s Evelyn.”  
He continued to eat his supper, white noise of others conversing, of cutlery and chewing around them. He didn’t look up, and she felt isolated immediately, like a bubble had wrapped around the both of them at the table. “I’m from Ostwick … where are you from?” This time he did look up for a lingering time, analysing her appearance. One couldn’t gather much on how she looked, her inherent features weren’t at all elegant, maybe the fact her hair was down could give on that information, although half of it was in a bun. Her attire wasn’t noble, for the sake of humility and practicality, just common sense, dressed in coat and trousers. But then there was the grey scarf around her neck, it wasn’t an expensive fabric, but one could tell it wasn’t cheap either. Perfect for when the wasteland climate wanted to be extra inconvenient. 

“My _vallaslin_ should tell you all you need to know,” he said without a flicker of tone. There was discomfort immediately, but Evelyn wanted to make an effort. She hadn’t spoken to many people, mostly humans but even then, this was a place of tightly entwined groups, found family, people looking to find lost family, at last united lovers and friends or grieving individuals who wanted to be left alone.  


“Your tattoos,” Evelyn knew she would butcher the pronunciation in some way, or that the word leaving her mouth was just as disrespectful, but in even not saying such a sacred word, his eyes showed agitation, she’d leave him in peace if he didn’t respond to her this time round, “they’re of Falon’Din-“

“ _What would you know of the pantheon_?” Try as he might, Evelyn sensed it wasn’t anger in his voice, but excitement, his eyes awake and lighter than before. 

“A lot of reading, I’m sure not a bit of it was truthful, but you can’t really be wrong about the names of the elven gods.” Evelyn’s voice grew in energy, she had to pull herself back, but he didn’t seem to mind, in fact, for once in the Silent Plains, someone seemed to be engaged in a conversation with her. 

“Do you know what he is the Evanuri of?” 

“Um, I believe he’s the god of the dead? The one who leads elves to the afterlife,” she mumbled, thinking hard on getting it right, tapping the tips of her fingers on the table. She caught the glimpse of a smile on his lips, a smile she couldn’t help but imitate. “He has a twin, doesn’t he? What’s their name?” Evelyn huffed, thinking too fast for her own good, but he was kind enough to answer.

“Dirthamen. His twin-soul. Dirthamen is the Evanuri of knowledge and secrets,” he spoke quietly, above just a whisper, face falling, “despite the beliefs of the Dalish, of my people, the Evunari were no gods.” This threw Evelyn, brows furrowing deeply, she leaned forward, eyes flickering all over his expression. “They were powerful mages, corrupt with power. They were locked away by Fen’Harel for good reason.”

Immediately, Evelyn knew there was something different, off even about his views. **The Dread Wolf**. “How do you know? And, and you just said his name? I thought that was a bad omen?” 

The elf laughed, the sound was beautiful because she knew it was rare, regardless of the sadness woven in it, “I used to believe such a thing, a name used to curse our enemies, a mad god… He was our protector, he saved -” He paused in thought, a hand coming to touch the markings on his delicate face, then to scars on his bare arms, “he tried to save his people, a necessary sacrifice. He will rise once again, and _we will be free_.” 

~*~

There was a comfort in meeting someone who shared interests, all things knowledge, and although it wasn’t much, a noble human and Dalish elf, it was enough for them to walk side by side, talk without worrying what would be said, enough to feel not so alone. It had taken a little time to get to such a point, but regardless of prior feelings, their personalities wouldn't allow them to be antagonistic. It was an inherent dynamic, natural to its core. His presence eased her dreams, a promise that the next day would be better, to see her friend, to share smiles as they did their chores. To at the end of the day, speak around a fire, to feel like the world wasn’t a chaotic place where nothing could change. That bubble surrounding them and only them. 

_Faron_ \- his name, that through laughter and insulting he taught her to pronounce properly – was a grand storyteller, something she wouldn’t have guessed through his reserved nature. He’d tell her of his old clan, before he was… The time he was sent on his first hunt, he’d shot his teacher in the foot, and the time that he got run over by an aravel, his hahren was not pleased. Evelyn’s mouth ached from smiling and laughing so much. She told him about the time she vomited on an Orlais noblewoman as a young girl at a tea party with her mother. She hated the taste of tea, and the effects of it. She shuddered at the thought of it. They found common ground in the fact that they didn’t fit in with their “family”, always just that bit strange. 

“My mother told me she was glad the breach occurred when it did, as horrible as that sounds, there’s some validity to it,” Evelyn laughed through talking, “I was going to become a member of the chantry, couldn’t be a templar for “lack of talent” my mother once said to me, but I also lack, you see, a skill called being likeable, or charming. I don’t represent our family motto, neither modest or bold.” Evelyn quoted with her fingers. “It wouldn’t have worked out and I would been an embarrassment to the family, so the breach, in my family’s favour, well, shame wasn’t a priority.” Evelyn’s voice came to a whisper. She wanted to laugh some more for the fact that she was self-aware enough to know what it sounded like, what it was. Faron watched her for a while.  


“You’re worth more than what your family thinks of you.” Evelyn nodded in agreement, meeting his gaze. “That’s what I, my people, will never understand of humans. You are so superficial, but I suppose that is because of your fleeting nature.” 

“You are not wrong. There are human families that actually care, though obviously not mine.” She instantly felt a drop in her stomach. It wasn’t entirely true, there was someone … She stood from her seat, stretching her limbs out, cracks and aches satisfied. A cold night wind brushed by her cheeks, red and numb, flickering brown strands of hair into her eyes. “I’m off to bed, my bones ache from today.”

“Of course, humans are so frail.” Evelyn went to laugh, peering down at him, only to find a sombre look on his face.  
It was that sort of night she convinced herself, cold and the sky dim, the stars feeling empty for no reason other than a feeling. She pushed herself to take the long, uneven walk to her tent instead of passing out by the fire, boots crunching into frosted over grounds, grounds that could no longer bring life. It was a terrible land, but the company and cause made it bearable. 

It wasn’t just the uneven grounds that gave her unease, as she walked in the quiet of the night now that most were asleep, it was the structures buried and above ground. Not the sharpness of Tevinter in the foreground, but the elegance and beauty of a culture abolished, remnants. It haunted her. At night in her sleep. There used to be life here. They’re just dreams.

~*~

The city had magic sewn throughout like lyrium in a dwarven thaig. Buzzing in the air, shivers all over like goosebumps, pleasant and connecting her to something greater. People, elves… not Dalish, _something else_. Golden armour, flowing fabrics that glittered under sunlight. The ground nourished and green. Stone and murals, floating islands of structures in the sky, the never-ending sky. It could bring tears to an architect, and great sobs to a historian. Within her heart, she knew this wasn’t real, but it felt real, like it always did. 

No one noticed her presence, they continued about their day. Creating and using their immortal magic. Every person, there was overwhelming magic in them, it was a life force. Little children ran through fields, graceful halla pranced about. Ghilan’nain’s creatures, hunters trailing them. She wandered deeper into the dream, inside of the structures, light sifting through mosaic-like windows, a spectrum of colours covering her head to toe like sunshine. 

This was what was taken? It felt like sacrilege for her to walk through this time in Thedas, and she supposed it was.  
This was _Solas_ in the time of _Elvhenan_. 

Faron said _Fen’harel_ , the trickster god took this away from his people to save them… Evelyn couldn’t begin to believe it or want to understand why. A deed like this was the most horrific she’d ever seen, to take away such beauty, to hide it all away.  
It wasn’t her culture and yet an anger awoke inside her. How could such a being be a saviour … but then she saw **them**. 

Broken, their dignity flayed to bare flesh. Blood markings, the vallaslin. Slaves, not unlike those of the Tevinter Imperium.  
Evelyn stood before horror, mouth agape as people, people who were supposed to be the most powerful were bound by chains, received lashings, resounding in the air in painful cracks, skin being cut open. 

Ghosts, telling her the truth. Evelyn walked away from the scene, ignoring the shift in her surroundings becoming anything other than beautiful. Gods enslaving their people, warring amongst themselves. The sky was green, bleeding.  
“It’s just a dream.” Evelyn chanted over and over, but Farons’ words followed her like a spirit demanding vengeance. Corrupt gods. 

“You’re in the fade… it’s not real. Just a **memory**.” She kept walking, wanting to wake up, after all these years of dreams and nightmares and she still couldn’t will herself awake, trapped until morning when she would wake gasping for air, and her brother would run in to hold her close. _Maxwell_. And the times he wasn’t there. 

She used to love her dreams, the good ones. But the good ones became bad ones after -

Hopelessness filled her mind. “Not again.” She hadn’t had an episode like this in months, but here she was, alone. The dreams had been okay since Faron …  
Evelyn gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up. “Please.”

She stayed that way for however long, still and quiet until the chaos of her thoughts and memories, and a peoples’ trauma subsided, leaving just her, her breathing and a cold breeze, bare feet freezing and vulnerable. Evelyn fluttered her eyes open with a bout of courage.  
She believed herself to be awake in the solid world for a moment, but she knew, she was still in a dream.

Familiar ruins rested ahead of her, the city of Solas not so far away, a silhouette in the distance. But it was the elven ruins that held her attention, a hum of something powerful coming from within. She never moved once, yet every blink was a transition, closer inside the ruins. Deep into the ground, collapsed and disoriented. Whispers, people talking in the walls. Evelyn was called closer, she should have been terrified, but she wasn’t.  
A mirror atop of calm water stared back at her, she made her way to it. A reflection of a young woman, freckles, dark grey eyes that could be mistaken for brown or blue, a familiar crooked nose, sun-starved skin. It was her, and unlike other dreams where she’d wake up and remember that the dream showed maybe a wrongful feature, unordinary, this was truly **her**.

There was consciousness, familiar and rushing like rapids in her head. _Why show her this?_

And then there were eyes. Red, blood red. **So many** , staring back at her. Evelyn stumbled away from the mirror, deeper into darkness, too afraid to make sound, and yet wanting to just as much. 

It towered over like a dragon from a tale, wings spanning out from its back. A **wolf** …  
It’s maws barely visible, fur black and shining even in darkness. It was beautiful almost, watching her with those red eyes. For a moment she believed it might not hurt her, but belief had let her down far too often, and this time was no exception.

She woke up in her bedding, gasping for air, heaving and choking, and grasping at her body to know for sure she was not torn apart, searching for blood on her fingers, to feel that pain, that terror, that coldness of death, but she was whole, and awake and _alone_.

~*~

The day went on forever, memories of the night before still lingering in her head, her body remaining on edge, prepared for the worst. Every harsh sound, every gust of wind, every shouting voice, every innocent whisper and Evelyn was turning to look, to see if she was trapped in a dream. But she continued, hiding it as best she could.

Faron noticed her behaviour however, observed her as she did cooking duties, filling bowls with hot soup. Hands shaking, droplets of supper missing the dishes. Stumbling around like a lost baby animal. When Evelyn finally sat down to eat, Faron was onto her like a worried doe, looking out for her fawn.  
“Something happened to you.”  
He was straight-forward, and genuinely concerned, something Evelyn didn’t expect. Yes, they had grown closer, maybe even friends, but she hadn’t realised the extent that he’d _care_. She smiled at him, quick and without weight. 

“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night,” Evelyn said between chewing bits of vegetables. Faron eased in posture, but only a little. His eyes flickering all over her. Around her neck, her wrists… 

There was something off about how he watched people, looking for details no common person would look for. She assumed he was looking for something external, perhaps thinking she’d been attacked. It wasn’t such a strange thing to suspect, there had been a few refugees and workers who’d been attacked in the days she’d been there, all assailants were dealt with, but it was a place to be cautious with so many faces and bodies. 

“Sleep does not give people bruises around their neck.” She froze at the reach of his hand, lithe fingers brushing away her hair as he leaned over the table. 

“ _What?_ ” Evelyn whispered, her own hand circling her neck, trying to feel for any pain, she flinched immediately, just below the left side of her jawline. “I don’t know how- maybe I did it to myself, while sleeping.”

Faron believed her, she could tell that much, but he didn’t think she was right, and yet, he didn’t say anything more, only giving her neck one last glance before leaving her altogether. 

Evelyn wasn’t stupid enough to think any of it was a coincidence, something had occurred while she dreamt last night, otherwise the heavy bruising below her jaw would not be there, purple and yellow, so very real, the hand mirror gave no illusions.  
The shape of a mouth … Evelyn shuddered, feeling the wolf’s maw around her throat, shrinking to something more human, teeth, dull but strong pressing into skin. 

She would get no sleep for a long time. 

~*~

Evelyn sat by the fire that night, huddled in a shadowy corner, away from others who did similar. The people who stayed by the fire were the same as her she gathered, unable to sleep. Their reasons however, she felt gratitude for not ever having to experience. Their dreams were probably much worse. She could see it in their eyes. There was nothing to question in their suffering. The more she thought about it, the more she felt alone. 

The blanket wrapped around her shoulders tighter, she pulled, dug her fingernails into the material, it felt rough and scratchy against her, but it was warm and made her feel less isolated. She took to watching flame embers float up and up, till she was staring into the overwhelming night sky. The sky still wounded after all these years, from the breach, and yet still ferocious in its beauty. Almost no room for abyss, the stars took up so much, glinting like gems. Evelyn pretended that she was back in the old times, as a young child, stargazing with Maxwell.

She was there for so long she thought for a moment the sun would rise any moment. People were eventually asleep by the fire, calmed by the crackling of wood and flames, the smell of comfort and security. Snoring could be heard, Evelyn smiled, the first real smile since the dreams.  
It almost made her want to sleep, but her mind was taken with other things. 

By one of the Tevinter structures, where hired mercenaries, employed to protect by the Lucerni, took guard, there were grunts, barely audible and not solid enough to not count as just her imagination. She would have ignored it if it weren’t for the fact that none of the mercenaries were around. There was no sign of them. The lack of security paired with the standing hairs on the back of her neck had her jolting from her spot and looking at the sleeping figures, fearing that she may have also fallen asleep and led herself into a nightmare.  
But it wasn’t that kind of unease.  
The world around her was solid and as she left it, and the grunting sounds were of pain. Whispers became violent, like an argument was occurring, hushed but not enough to hide from those who were wide awake.

Evelyn crept closer to the building, her blanket flying away with the breeze. The sounds emanating were real, sounds of something, someone, getting beaten. She knew the sound too well, witnessing her fair share of fights. But this wasn’t a fair fight. There was only one person getting hit and there were multiple assailants, she could hear it in the pattern of each forceful punch, kick… 

She cringed at every crack, at every spit of saliva, of blood coming out of whoever this person was. Evelyn stuck herself to the exterior walls, in the shadows, cautious of every step.

“ **What did the agent tell you?** ” 

The voice, she knew it instantly, heart beating that much faster, the use of the word agent striking realisation and fear into her, and yet she kept lingering, sneaking closer to the entrance of the darkly lit watchtower. 

“I’m not giving you anything.” The woman’s voice was hoarse and broken and wet. Scent of blood became the only thing Evelyn could smell. Then slit throats were in her sight, the mercenaries dealt with efficiently and brutally.  
_If they were gone …_  
“There’s no point in me lying, half of Thedas knows he has the **idol-** ”

A sharp slap, and a hiss of pain.

“-don’t test me _shem!_ He knows how you people work, what you’d be looking for and where. _Masal din’an_. The inquisition knew enough to have agents stationed here, you must know of the Antaams’ connection with us, what else do you know?”  
There was a moment of silence, and a moment where Evelyn quit breathing. 

“We know about Antiva.” A sigh of either relief or anxiety came from Faron. “It’s not like we’ll be able to do anything now. _Minrathous_ is too far up their own arse to think it possible.”  
Evelyn had heard rumours of the Qunari invasion, heard that Ventus had been overtaken, but Mother and Father convinced her and her sisters that the Imperium would handle it. **But it was bigger than that …** Evelyn dared to look inside, catching sight of _golden armour_ , dead bodies, unmoved from bedrolls, some without a sign of external injury, _as if they had died in their sleep_. 

The inquisition agent, the woman, she was being held down, and Faron … towered over her, something else entirely, not like the person she’d assumed, a friend.  
He wasn’t _her friend_. 

“ **Na din’an sahlin**.” A dagger was shoved into the woman’s chest, red seeping into her sleep wear. She had not expected this. 

Tears spilled from Evelyn, throat closed and chest heaving with pain. She didn’t mean to, she didn’t mean to choke, she didn’t mean to bring Faron’s eyes to her. Eyes that before, were without humanity, only purpose, and now, all at once, holding nothing but sadness. 

“ _Evelyn …_ ” 

Her name whispered so softly from his mouth brought the attention of the others, elves without vallaslin, in beautiful armour, from a dream, to her small and useless body. Faron knew as well as she did that they couldn’t let her … Evelyn wasn’t going to live through this.  
“Evelyn,” he began, tears welling in his eyes.

Evelyn turned her back before he could tell her his apologies, whatever comfort that would have brought her at the feet of her executor.  
And she ran, half-expecting an arrow to nestle in her spine, expecting it and yet not able to comprehend the truth of the situation.  
**She was going to die**. 

She was screaming help, over and over. Grumbles and complaints rose in sound, people beginning to wake up from her pathetic howling, her stumbling and sprinting throughout the camp, then others screamed along with her. Howls of confusion. She didn’t have to stop running to know that it wasn’t just the mercenaries that were killed.  
Every human had died in their sleep …  
Everyone but **her**. 

She didn’t know where she’d go, or how far she’d get, but she never stopped running, dirt and sand kicking up into her face, gusts of wind blowing earth into her eyes and mouth. She didn’t stop, couldn’t.  
She ran until she was on the ground, having fallen, caught herself on something in the ground, fate taunting her, she had gotten so far, she had to of, the sun was rising, beautiful pink glow, _hope_. 

Evelyn looked behind her, the warmth of the newly woken sun hitting her back, as she saw it … _a visage in the desert_. Something had followed her. Not _something_ …

The silhouette evoked a fear she had never felt before, not in her **nightmares** , not when a tear in the sky pulled everything asunder. It was primal. So deeply rooted in her mind that she was paralysed in its gaze as it walked the wasteland between them. Whimpers being pulled from her throat, she crawled further back, nails clawing into the dirt beneath her until she had friction to stand and run again. 

The land was open and vulnerable. There was no end or beginning. 

And then, like a twisted joke, a horrific nightmare, she was faced with the ruins. That empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. The hum of ancient powers she felt in dreams. 

The deeper she went inside, the less familiar it became, and the more dread began to gnaw at her. No recollection of this path she was to take, no premonition, she didn’t know if the dream was a saviour or a warning but she ran deeper and deeper into the fallen structure, till she couldn’t hear the Silent Plains outside, only her uneven breathing, and boots skidding along the broken floors. 

She wanted so badly to believe she had lost whatever followed her, that she could rest, but she couldn’t. She felt it on her trail. The burning of her lungs, the ache of her legs begged her to stop and relent but she couldn’t, fear prevented her from doing it. 

But the ruins had other plans, the ground beneath her giving out. Feet leaving the floor, time slowing down as gravity ceased to exist around her and she was falling, body getting caught on fragments, crashing down and down until she hit the bottom. Cold and unrelenting water engulfing her, bringing her under and without air. Sinking and burning liquid forcing its way into her lungs, but she fought and surfaced, sputtering water and floundering limbs until she grasped onto solid ground. 

**And there she stood**. A different world beneath the one above. Greenery, nature overtaken the temple like something she’d imagine while reading a book. Sunlight coming from somewhere above the underground system. Still-standing murals, art of ancient elves and artefacts, stories she was too disoriented to understand. Statues of wolves, guiding each corner.

It wasn’t a thaig. It was purely elven, a temple that had sunken into the earth, the temple she had dreamt.  
And perfectly in place, was the _mirror_. It sung a song she could feel and hear but couldn’t understand. It captivated her beyond that primal fear and agony of falling a great height, chased by a being that meant her harm.  
She stood before it, dripping water and pulled down by soaked clothing, dishevelled and so very human in a world that wasn’t meant for that, wasn’t for her kind. Like in the dream, she had not felt welcomed. 

Evelyn stared into the mirror, her reflection staring just the same, a bloody hand reaching out to gently touch the glass where a crack ran through it, where the replica of the bruise on her neck was placed. Power of some kind thrummed through her fingers, out of her control and unpleasant. Grey eyes searched the glass, waiting for those many red eyes, but she was met with something else, behind her, in the corner…

He watched her from the water, dressed in black, dressed in something a magister would wear, but he was no Tevinter mage.  
She should have acted on fear, should have yelled, should have ran, should have done anything but spin on her feet and meet his gaze properly, back meeting with the glass behind her. 

“You have been here before, in the fade while you slept. An extraordinary _gift_ to have.” 

His voice instantly calmed her, eased her muscles, her shoulders falling and hands unclenching. His voice was a strange thing, almost gentle, what a teacher would sound like.  
A huff of air released from her mouth as the man came closer. “The fade and its residents shared memories with you, of the past, of Elvhenan. And here you stand, in the remnants of it.” He surveyed his surroundings, as if he was just a bystander. “I haven’t seen this temple for some time, fade or otherwise. I can feel the weakness of the veil, so near to falling asunder.” 

Evelyn, although not sure of what to think of this … _him_ , she was on edge, after everything she had been through in the last hour, of the harm she had felt before falling, and even now. As if two different entities, two separate beings had followed her. Perhaps one to corner her, and one to tempt her, she clenched her hands again, eyeing every movement he made, and he noticed.

“That is an eluvian your body rests on. That’s why you feel such a pull to it. Yet you are no mage-”

“-are you here to kill me?” Evelyn said without thought, it came out weak and afraid.

He did not answer her straight away, instead pulling his focus from the temple around them, and to her specifically. That horrible feeling of not being wanted arose in her within his gaze.  
“That depends entirely on what you choose to do in these next few moments.” His voice was darker, and dread gripped her heart tighter. He was closer and closer with every blink and yet she couldn’t clearly remember him ever moving physically towards her. She circled around, taking a large step away from the mirror and to the right of him, not wanting to be cornered, and his eyes followed, like a predators’, a **wolf …**

Glowing eyes, a thing she had noticed of him prior, followed every twitch of her body, trailing from her hands to then her neck, staying there as her chest rose and descended in uneven breaths. Just as she was to take her last step, to run again, an energy, a force grasped her very soul and left her like stone, unable to move, to speak, only to breathe and to see. Chokes bubbled in her throat but couldn’t leave her mouth as he made his way, without fear of startling his prey, to her smaller form. 

He disappeared from her view, but she sensed him coming up behind her.

The last thing she felt was a wave of tiredness, of slumber and her body falling into a heap only to be caught and brought into a chest, lithe but strong arms under her legs and back, fingers digging into her ribs, under her breasts. 

Evelyn knew before sleep took her, that she had been captured by the **dread wolf.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you wish, please leave a comment below, criticism or even more amazing, compliments to feed my inflated ego! XD jk
> 
> Comments would be much appreciated, as would kudos!  
> Take care <33
> 
> also, quick note on the title, title is the name of one my favourite songs, it reminds me of Evelyn in this fic.  
> "Half-Asleep" by Low Roar, it's soooo goooood!


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